Graduation
by shedoc
Summary: Picks up where the show left off... my take on Blair the cop
1. Worth It

Worth ItDisclaimer: The Sentinel, Blair Sandburg, Jim Ellison, Simon Banks, and

all other characters are property of Paramount and Pet Fly. No copyright

infringement is intended, and no money has exchanged hands.

Author's note: this mini-series goes hand in hand with my previous story

Graduation. I wanted to give some realism to what Jim would be doing while Blair

was at the Academy and answer the all-important question - why would Blair, the

gentlest most peaceful person in Cascade decide to take a job that made him

carry a gun? Originally I was going to focus on different detectives in the

department, but Simon was so indignant that I had to let him have his say. I

hope I was listening correctly!

Shedoc

Worth it

by Shedoc

I decided it had been worth the discomfort of coming to work when my detectives

grinned and came in to say hello.

True, I was regretting having to put my comfy chair on the other side of the

desk so the damn wheelchair would fit, but like I said - it was worth it.

So it came as a total surprise that Blair Sandburg came in early that morning

and closed my door.

"Where's Jim?" I hoped that he and Ellison weren't about to call the whole

official partner deal off.

"Still in bed asleep - I turned his alarm off last night," Sandburg stood

opposite me, giving me a very appraising look. It came to me that he was the

only person in the city who could sneak under Ellison's radar like that.

"Sit down and quit staring, Sandburg," my growl made him grin and he plunked

himself in my comfy chair. He opened his coat and pulled out two cigars.

"Here," he handed one to me and bit the end off the other.

"You're going to smoke that?" I couldn't believe my eyes, "What about all those

times you jibed me about these things!"

"The desperate plea of an addict trying to avoid his drug," Sandburg lit up and

leaned over to hold the lighter for me.

"And what will Jim think?" my heart wasn't really in the comment as I watched

him slump back after the first puff.

"I'll tell him I've been talking to you," the kid grinned at me unashamedly and

I sat back.

"So besides being your alibi - and you're never doing this again, Sandburg, so

don't get comfortable - why are you here?" I asked, sarcasm rich in my tone.

"This partnership between me and Jim…"

"Is non-negotiable," I held up my hands but Sandburg kept on like I hadn't

spoken. I liked that when it counted I couldn't bully the kid.

"It could go either way. Jim might tell me to go again, or he might become

totally dependent on me to function."

I was shocked the kid could describe impending disaster so casually. He didn't

let up.

"If Jim tells me to go I will, but I'm not gonna become his security blanket. Do

you follow me?"

Yeah, I did; the kid already gave up his life's work and dreams for Jim Ellison.

Now, less than a week later he was ready to do it again.

"Anything you need, kid. I'll get it for you," my voice was a little hoarse and

Sandburg looked at his cigar carefully, giving me space.

"I can see only one way to head this off," Sandburg's voice was calm and

dispassionate, "While I'm at the Academy, Jim needs to work with another Guide."

"Conner is free," I anticipated. After all, our Aussie exchange cop already knew

the truth and had the experience. Sandburg grinned and shook his head.

"What makes you think I'd inflict that on the department? They'd be a double

homicide in a week!" he laid the cigar down and leaned forward a little.

"I was hoping you'd give him Taggert. Joel would be perfect for this."

I looked out into the bullpen and saw Taggert at his desk. He looked up and I

waved him in. As the ex Bomb Squad captain entered Sandburg came up out of his

chair and spoke before Taggert could do mare than say hello.

"You're right Joel - I was lying my ass off."

The cryptic comment had Taggerts eyes wide open and he pulled Sandburg into a

back thumping bear hug.

The kid was dwarfed by the older man, but leaned into him trustingly.

"So you owe me," was the first audible thing Taggert said and Sandburg pulled a

third cigar from his inner pocket. Obviously Taggert and Blair had discussed the

dissertation and Blair had tried to maintain the lie.

"Where's yours?" Taggert asked and Blair gestured. I watched Taggert light up

and Blair settled back into my comfy chair, his legs folded beneath him. He

puffed on the cigar and blew a smoke ring at us.

"So apart from the mind-blowing idea of you smoking a cigar, what am I here

for?" Taggert looked at me and I realised he had a fair idea of what was going

on. You don't succeed in my squad by being slow.

"You're going to be Ellison's Sentinel Guide while Sandburg's at the Academy," I

confirmed it for him.

"I hope you're going to give me a copy of that dissertation, Sandburg, 'cause I

really don't know how to do that," Taggert didn't disguise his nervousness.

"I'll tell you all you need to know and do," Sandburg nodded to me and started

to get up.

"Stay there," I ordered, "I could use a refresher course."

"Ok, Simon," smoking seemed to have mellowed Sandburg a lot. He blew another

smoke ring and settled back to present part of his Sentinel dissertation -

probably the only chance he'd ever have.

"The main thing you have to watch for is a zone out - Jim's senses haven't

flared up on him in ages. He zones when he puts everything into one sense and

gets lost. You'll know he's zoning if he turns into a Jim statue or simply folds

up and falls over. To call him back you need to touch him - on the arm or shoulder, whatever you can reach. Then you call to him. Use his name; tell him to come back. If this method is going to work he'll hitch his breath a little. You'll know if he can hear you in the first thirty seconds."

"So he responds and you keep on talking. Tell him about the weather or your

personal philosophy on sport. Remember to use his name a lot and ask him to come

back. He'll twitch a little and grimace - just be calm and encourage him until

he starts talking back and making sense."

"How long will that take?" Taggert interrupted. Sandburg shrugged and shifted a

little in his chair.

"Sometimes less than a minute," Sandburg told the tip of his cigar, "There's no

real base line."

"What's the longest you've had to do this for?" I pressed the issue. Sandburg

drew on the cigar and sighed, his face obscured by a cloud of smoke.

"Eight hours," his voice was reflective, "We went hiking early in the

partnership and Jim zoned on an eagle. I talked to him for eight hours."

"Why didn't you just slug him - like Conner?" Taggert sounded bewildered. Good

question. I tilted my head at Sandburg and waited for the answer.

"The same reason you don't wake someone who's asleep with an electric shock - it

has unpleasant side effects. When you shock Jim out of a zone he gets a migraine

- among other things," Sandburg shrugged at my look and smiled at Taggert,

"Don't worry, we've never come close to that mark since then."

He puffed again and leaned over to tap ash.

"So - danger signs. If Jim is going into a zone he gets shaky, drowsy. He stops making sense when he's talking or doesn't respond to what you say. His balance will go out a little. His breathing slows right down. Don't sweat it Joel. Jim doesn't zone every day."

"Hey we can always just call you," Taggert cheered up and nodded.

"That's not going to happen," I vetoed, "Not unless it's a real emergency."

Taggert shot me a startled look but didn't argue. Wise man, after all I'm the

Captain. Sandburg backed me up by ignoring our little side discussion and

continuing his presentation.

"Now, if you can't get Jim to respond - remember that little hitch in his

breathing - then you need to do something to stimulate his other senses. Pain works well - hit or slap or pinch him. Shine a light in his eyes or blow a

whistle in his ear. He won't thank you for it - in fact he'll probably give you

a piece of his mind. Just remember it's not personal."

I wondered how many times my best detective had abused his slim partner for

doing his job. How hard did Sandburg work to keep Ellison operating at peak

performance? Sandburg met my eyes and I had the idea that the kid knew exactly

what I was thinking; there was a wise gleam in his eyes.

"Well," Taggert broke in, "I guess I can do this."

"Sure you can," Sandburg's tone was neither falsely hearty nor patronizing, "Do

you think I'd recommend you if I didn't know that? You're the one I trust most,

aside from Simon here, to keep Jim safe."

Taggert straightened, proud at the endorsement and looked over at me. I nodded a

dismissal to him, impressed by the kid yet again. Not that I'd tell him that.

Blair waved in farewell to Taggert and waited until the door closed before

looking over at me.

"If Taggert hits the eight hour mark you should call me," the kid said seriously

then held up his hands before I could tell him off.

"It's better to be dependent and alive, than independently dead," he leaned

forward to stub the cigar out as Conner walked in without knocking, like usual.

Her arm was still in its sling so I didn't yell at her either.

"What are you trying to do, sir? Set off the smoke alarms?" Conner flapped her

file at the smoke and then dropped it in shock.

I wish I had a camera to record the expression on her face as she caught sight

of Sandburg and his cigar.

"Sandy! What are you doing?" she exclaimed in horror.

"Relax Megan - I'm not gonna smoke all of it," Sandburg unfolded himself from

the chair and stood up.

"I gotta get going - pack for the Academy, let Jim know about Joel," he nodded

to me as he dropped the remnants of the cigar into my bin.

"Dismissed," I nodded back and he grinned at me.

The door closed gently behind him and I sighed.

"That is one of the bravest men I've ever met," I muttered mostly to myself.

Yep, coming in today had definitely been worth it.

0o0o0o0o0

To be continued in part 2

Comments, criticism, suggestions? Please e-mail Shedoc.


	2. Three am

Three a.m.Disclaimer: The Sentinel, Blair Sandburg, Jim Ellison, Simon Banks,

and all other characters are property of Paramount and Pet Fly. No copyright

infringement is intended, and no money has exchanged hands.

Three a.m.

by Shedoc

It was 3 am and already I hated today.

It should have started at a civilized hour, but we had a stakeout go wrong and

now I was standing here looking at the scene cops hate most but Captains

especially.

One of my detectives flat on his back with his partner crouching beside him and

calling his name.

Uniforms had taken the suspects away and were sitting outside the old brewery,

waiting for my word. Only my people were there now - Megan and Rafe and Henri -

clustered around Taggert as he tried to revive Ellison.

I filled a place in the circle as Taggert looked up. His worry and fear was

written on his face for us to see - I suspect we looked the same way to him.

"C'mon Jim, it's been an hour. You gotta focus. Otherwise I'll let Conner have a

go - I'm sure her approach will be a lot less fun," Taggerts voice was calm, but

had a definite edge to it. His grip on Ellisons shoulder was firm, almost

vice-like. As Taggert continued to urge Ellison on the zoned Sentinel grimaced,

then finally opened his eyes.

After a few more minutes he was able to get to his feet and we surround him to

walk out, like a phalanx of bodyguards. We sat Jim in the passenger side of my

car - he looked embarrassed at all the attention and ready to blow his cool -

and I asked what the hell happened.

"We just rounded up the last of the fake designer jeans crew and he went down,"

Conner frowned at me in confusion.

"He asked what that smell was just before he zoned," Taggert spoke up, "I guess

something in there triggered it."

"There's all kinds of smells in there - all out of place," Jim spoke up, "Can we

get a tracker dog in here? Something is not right."

"There is a funny odor to the place," Rafe backs Ellison up, "It's worth a try,

Captain."

I was reluctant to call in a sniffer dog when I knew Ellison could locate the

mystery smell just as efficiently. Maybe it was a lack of confidence that held

him back - or he hadn't recovered yet. Sandburg would know, but the kid wasn't

here and the call was mine.

"Are you all right, Jim?" I asked deciding to push him along now. After all this

was what Sandburg wanted - Ellison's independence. Ellison looked at me and

sighed.

"Yeah, all right," he grumbled, "But we should still get a dog in here - I don't

think my sense of smell will stand up in court."

"Good point," I nodded and called it in while Taggert followed Ellison back into

the brewery.

I arranged for the dog team and leaned back against my car, waiting with the

rest of my detectives. By now we all knew not to get in Ellison's way when he

was sweeping an area - the temper tantrums and glares had told us that screening

out our presence made life way too difficult.

After an hour Taggert hurried out and I smothered a curse. Had Ellison zoned

again and Taggert panicked?

"We need a mirror," Taggert said as he got closer, "Conner do you have a

compact?"

"Sexist," Conner growled but dug around in her bag and car before finding one

and handing it over reluctantly.

"So, what have you two found?" Rafe pushed for an answer and Taggert grinned at

us.

"So far enough chemicals to put a drug lab to shame. Looks like we've gone from

fake designer jeans, to fake designer drugs," Taggert replied, "There's a big

cache in a nest of pipes though - we can't get direct line of sight. That's what

this is for."

Taggert hefted the mirror in his hand and jogged back into the building. I was

impressed that he and Ellison had managed to do such a clear sweep of the

building.

Two minutes later they both came pelting out of there, running full speed.

"Down! Get down!" Taggert was yelling as Ellison waved at the uniformed cops. I

turned, shoving my people ahead of me - trying to get them behind the cars. We

made it just as Taggert slammed into us, knocking us flat. Jim was there too,

trying to pull everyone into shelter.

"Jim! Block it off!" Taggert yelled just as the building exploded.

Heat, light and sound engulfed us as the force of the explosion flattened us to

the ground. Debris rained down around us - bricks and timber. By sheer luck no

one copped a brick to the head.

I waited until the echo died and rolled onto my side, scanning anxiously for my

people - were they safe? Hurt?

Could I help them?

Had I let them down?

Rafe and Henri were already checking each other out. Conner was disentangling

herself from Taggert and sitting up. Ellison put a hand on my arm before running

to check the uniformed cops on the other side of the lot.

"What the hell?" I growled and Taggert took a deep breath, brushing dust off his

jacket and looking around at the rubble.

"That cache in the pipes turned out to be enough C4 to … well, blow up the

building," he gestured at the pile of rubbish that had once been a building and

I looked at it in awe. Jim came back and squatted down beside us.

"Everyone ok?" he asked, though I got the feeling he knew we were and was just

trying to maintain a sense of normality. It must really bother him to know that

kind of thing and not be able to just let it stand for granted.

"We're fine," Rafe spoke up and I nodded when Jim glanced at me for confirmation. I looked over at the patrol car.

"The uniforms ok?" I asked and Jim nodded, focussing on them for a minute to be

sure.

"They're calling it in," he told me and looked over at the pile of rubble.

Taggert shot him an anxious look, but decided not to say anything that would

annoy his partner. I was under no such restraints.

"Are you ok, Jim? How are your senses?" I asked and he grimaced in typical

Ellison annoyance.

"They're fine. Joel's reminder was very timely. Thanks man," Ellison nodded over

at Taggert and I relaxed a little.

The kid's plan was working. Jim was independent of him to function as a

Sentinel, though he still needed a Guide. I began worrying that the pendulum was

swinging the other way - would Sandburg have a Sentinel to return to when he

graduated?

"Hey!" Connor exclaimed suddenly, "Where's my compact?"

0o0o0o0o0o0

To be continued in part 3

Comments, criticism, suggestions? Please e-mail Shedoc.


	3. How Many Does It Take

How Many Does It Take...

Disclaimer: The Sentinel, Blair Sandburg, Jim Ellison, Simon Banks, and all other characters are property of Paramount and Pet Fly. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money has exchanged hands.

How many does it take…

by Shedoc

It's funny what scares people. For some it's spiders, others it's small places.

I knew a cop who was afraid of snails.

For me - after the events of recent months - it's two words. 'Published

dissertation'.

I glared at the woman sitting opposite me. She wore a smartly cut linen skirt

suit and a pastel blouse. A soft leather briefcase rested against her

well-shaped leg. Her hair framed neatly against her face. She had a slightly

expectant expression on her face but my head was buzzing with a million

questions. I picked one almost at random and fired it at her.

"Why have you contacted me? Why not contact Mr. Sandburg at home?"

Ok, so that was two questions. Sue me.

"Mr. Sandburg still rooms with Mr. Ellison," her voice implied that this was

reasonable and obvious, "We didn't want to create conflict at his home."

So it was ok to create conflict in his workplace? I pushed the question aside

and hit her with my best 'you'd better explain this to me' scowl. She seemed to

get the general idea - smart lady.

"I'm sorry," she smiled at me, "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm trying to

persuade Mr. Sandburg to publish."

"He admitted to fraud," the sentence hurt to say. Hell, the idea made me cringe.

"Anyone in the Academic community outside Rainier knows that admission to be a

fabrication," she dismissed it with a wave of her well manicured hand, "Mr.

Sandburg would have been denounced officially by the University Dean. Obviously

we can't ask him to defend the Sentinel dissertation - but the other four are…"

"Other four?" I blurted, interrupting her. A question that sounded like a bad

joke flitted across my mind: how many dissertations does it take to get a

doctorate? She frowned at me and shifted in her chair impatiently.

"Captain Banks are you aware of Mr. Sandburg's IQ? Or his true capabilities?"

her voice was sharp and I felt a flash of anger - no one takes that tone with

me!

"His last IQ test had him in the mid 190's. He never writes one paper at a time

- too many ideas flow through his head. Standard procedure is for him to write

one major dissertation and as many as four others," her voice softened as she

noticed my anger and she nodded her head in a kind of apology, though she didn't

say anything.

"So he's smart," I grumbled, only partly appeased, "We all knew that." I gesture

at the bullpen outside my office and notice that most of my detectives are

keeping one eye peeled on my window and the other on the door. Thank God Ellison

and Taggert were out questioning witnesses today. She sighed at me like I was

being deliberately dense. I scowled back at her again and she sat a little

straighter. I didn't want to mess this up for Sandburg, but if she continued

patronizing me I would throw her out.

"Rainier has made a real mess of things," she mumbled mostly to herself, "We

should never have allowed his continued attendance."

This also got my back up. Where did she come off acting all proprietary towards

the kid? He was ours!

"You see, Captain, Mr. Sandburg never gave his dissertation to the committee.

That means he can complete his doctorate," she told me, "Obviously the Sentinel

dissertation is out - he won't be able to publish that for at least twenty

years, but the others are all viable and frankly Mr. Sandburg is too important

to the field to waste. As the four minors are all law enforcement centered we'll

publish them as a collection; once he's defended them to committee of course."

I was having a hard time concealing my feelings. Sandburg deserved a second shot

at his dream. I wanted to be sure he'd get it. After all he'd done for my friend

Ellison, my department and for me I wanted this for him so badly I could taste

it.

"Mr. Sandburg is at the Academy. How soon do we have to move on this?" I asked

and then held my breath.

"It can wait until he's graduated. If you can give me that date, I'll know when

to contact him."

I supplied the date absently while I considered how to break the news of all

this to Ellison.

The Sentinel would be over-joyed.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

To be continued in part 4

Comments, criticism, suggestions? Please e-mail Shedoc.


	4. Graduation

Graduation Disclaimer: The Sentinel, Blair Sandburg, Jim Ellison, Simon Banks,

and all other characters are property of Paramount and Pet Fly. No copyright

infringement is intended, and no money has exchanged hands.

Graduation

by Shedoc

Jim Ellison looked at Simon Banks incredulously.

"It's a twelve week course, sir," Jim didn't try to disguise his surprise and

Banks nodded.

"Sandburg doesn't even like guns. I had to practically break his arm every time

to get him to pick one up," Jim continued.

"I know, I know! According to the Instructors he put in a twelve-hour day each

day. Read all the theory, and practiced his ass off. Worked so damn hard to get

it right that he's qualified in nine," Banks held his hands up to stop the

protests, "Seeing as you're due for your refresher this weekend they want you to

go on a simulation with your new partner. Before he graduates a full three weeks

early. And they're not gonna tell Blair that's why you're there."

"This is nuts – he hates guns. We were both counting on him flunking the first

time through."

"Well I guess he's stepped past all that," Simon said unsympathetically, "On the

other hand are you going to get him to move out?"

"Nope," Jim leaned back in his chair; "We lived together all through the

'observer only' years. So now we're partners officially it should be no

different. I hope."

"You hope, you said it," Banks nodded and the phone rang. He made shooing

gestures at Jim who nodded and left. No point in trying to explain to Simon that

the concept of territory and personal space was long discarded by Sentinel and

Guide. The loft had been a little empty these last weeks – despite the fact that

Jim had enjoyed the peace.

The Academy range was on the outskirts of the city. It had its own barracks and

all the usual buildings and shooting ranges. It also had a little area called

'Sim Town' – an apartment block fitted for surveillance and stealth missions.

SWAT crews rappelled down it regularly, officers hunted each other through it

with paint guns for their refresher courses, trainees learnt how to sweep a room

or corridor, and how to secure a building.

Jim pulled his car in behind the barracks and pulled his backpack off the seat

as he got out. He shut the door and turned around, bumping into the truck as he

startled.

"Chief!" he exclaimed, "Dammit, you startled me!"

"Sorry," Blair Sandburg grinned. He was wearing jeans, sneakers and a polo

shirt, his hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"I guess you weren't paying attention," he fell into step with Jim, "Where you

staying man?"

Jim pulled out a crumpled printout and handed it to Blair who read it and

nodded.

"Top floor, end of the corridor on the south side," Blair handed back the

printout, "It's a single room – the place will be filling up this weekend."

"Yeah, refresher time for all us cops on the street," Jim agreed and opened the

door. Blair stopped and Jim frowned over at him, a little puzzled.

"I've got practice to get to, Jim, so I'll see you at dinner tonight," Blair

nodded and turned, jogging off towards the range. Jim shrugged and headed inside

to stow his gear.

Twenty minutes later he was out and heading for the range, aiming to get some

long range target practice in while the trainees were at PT and the others were

still arriving. He didn't want to have to explain the accuracy of his shots to

startled observers.

There was only one instructor at the range, and he let Jim check out a weapon

and ammunition without fuss. There was someone in the cubicle at the end, firing

steadily at a single target in the middle distance. The noise was a little

distracting and the earmuffs didn't entirely stop them. Jim checked the sights

on his weapon and sent the target way back before centering himself and focusing

his vision to accurately place his shots in the center of the man shaped target.

To his right the guy shot steadily at the same target, reloading quickly at the

end of each clip. Jim reloaded and put another series into the kill zone, using

his sight to place each shot carefully. Then he retrieved the tattered target.

To the right another clip was emptied and then reloaded. Jim frowned a little

and used his sight to look at the other guy's target. The shooter had outlined

the man shape at each zone, regularly spacing his bullets. Jim put the gun away

and walked over to the end cubicle as the target came whirring back on its

little clip.

Blair sighed heavily as he put the gun down and pulled the target from its clip.

He pulled a fresh target from underneath the little table, clipped it up and

sent it out again without looking around. This one had a man holding a woman

hostage – all you could see of the shooter was his head, a shoulder and hand,

and a leg. A new magazine went in and Blair steadied himself before firing. Jim

used his sight to check the target as each shot went in – shoulder, hand and

thigh with pinpoint accuracy. Jim waited until Blair put the gun down and then

dropped a hand on Blair's shoulder – enjoying the scare he gave his partner.

"Nice shots, Sandburg," he complimented and Blair frowned at his new target.

"I suppose so," Blair's voice was not happy, "At least they weren't fatal

wounds."

Jim left his hand on Blair's shoulder and looked at the grouping again.

"Still not a fan of guns huh?" he commiserated. In a way, asking Blair to do

this course was asking him to violate his beliefs.

"Did I ever tell you about Benny?" Blair shrugged Jims hand off, "We were four

and we found his brothers illegal hand gun, which he'd hidden under his mattress

in the room he shared with his baby brother. Mom was so anti-guns and she would

have freaked if she'd known I'd even seen the gun, so we sneaked off into the

cornfield next to Benny's house. We were looking into the barrel and going pow!

Pow! Benny took it straight through the eye. They found me sitting next to him,

holding his hand and crying."

"I didn't know," Jims voice echoed his shock, and Blair looked up without really

meeting Jims eyes. Pain marred his posture, but after a moment he straightened

up and took a breath.

"Its ok; I know," Blair shrugged and put the empty clips into the tray, took the

gun and gear back to the instructor who asked for the targets too.

"Gonna mark my homework, sir?" Blair grinned at him.

"Gonna use you for target practice you mean," the instructor growled in reply,

though Jim didn't think he really meant it.

"Dinners on in ten minutes, Sandburg – you'd better hurry up," the man added,

"I'm closing up for the night."

"Yes sir," Blair headed out, with Jim an unaccustomed step behind.

Dinner was noisy – Jim winced more than once as the noise in the communal dining

hall reached nearly intolerable levels for his Sentinel hearing. Blair was

subdued all through dinner, and was collected by some of his classmates

afterwards to study. One of his instructors came over and sat next to Jim.

"Its Detective Ellison, isn't it?" the man asked. He was a tall, well-muscled

man in his late forties with short-cropped hair and a nose that had been broken

at least twice.

"I'm Carl Webber," he introduced himself and Jim shook hands.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Jim replied, and Carl grinned.

"Call me Carl," Carl leaned on an elbow, "We haven't said anything to Blair

about early graduation – this weekend he has to pass the final simulation."

"And you'd rather I didn't say anything," Jim surmised.

"You got it," Carl agreed.

"I can do that," Jim nodded.

"Good, I'll see you tomorrow at Sim Town," Carl stood and walked away.

0o0o0o0

Jim stood with eight other people in the decrepit foyer of Sim Town while Carl

called the roll and looked around. Blair entered with a female instructor – who

was introduced as Emily O'Brien. She proceeded to brief them while Blair helped

Carl set up the gear.

"This is the building known as hostage central. It's a multiple story building

with plenty of corridors and rooms to get lost in. The simulation you nine will

run through today is fairly run of the mill. You have chased an armed perp into

this building and must locate and disarm him. To keep it interesting we'll give

the perp a paint gun. If he – or she – kills you then you fail the simulation.

We'll run you through solo first and then in pairs. Any questions?" Emily asked.

There were none.

"Good," Emily smiled, "We'll issue you with your gear and organize the roster.

This is Blair Sandburg – one of our trainees here at the moment. He'll be

participating today and has volunteered to go first."

"Yep – you just keep saying that," Blair muttered and Emily grinned.

"The building is wired for observation, so you'll be able to watch each other –

and so will we," she patted Blair on the back, "Lets begin, shall we?"

Jim stood where he could see the monitors as Blair went in alone. He watched his

partner sweep through the corridors, gun pointing at the floor, moving carefully

and listening hard. The perp was stalking Blair through the building, leading

him to a trap.

"Watch it rookie – he's gonna splat you," one of the cops murmured and Jim

nodded in agreement. Part of him wondered if Blair was nervous, knowing that Jim

was watching him.

Blair froze on the screen, sensing the trap and faded away from the perp,

managing to draw the perp out and chopping the paint gun out of his grip before

bailing him up against the wall and slapping the cuffs on.

In the control room the cops gave a round of applause and Blair holstered the

gun before undoing the cuffs and handing back the paint gun.

"Of course, you wouldn't do that in real life," Emily said over the p.a. and

Blair waved up at the camera with a smile before heading out. The next cop went

in. Blair entered the room and went to stand with Emily.

"You need to point that gun where you're looking, rookie," one of the other cops

said without looking over, "Some day you'll get splattered."

"In all the simulations we've run, no-one has managed to so much as wing him,"

Carl didn't bother looking around either, and Blair looked down at the floor.

Jim moved over to stand near him, watching the other cops go through the

simulation. Whoever was playing the part of the criminal did it differently each

time, not giving the cops a chance to gain an edge through their watching.

Jim ran through the simulation at normal speed, not using his senses. Blair gave

him a long look but didn't say anything. At twelve o'clock everyone had run

through the simulation once and Carl and Emily shut the building down for lunch.

"Lunch ends at one thirty – be back in here by then and we'll draw straws for

partners," Emily told everyone.

"What? I thought the idea was to practice with our partners," Blair's antagonist

protested and Carl shrugged.

"You work with each other every day," he butted in. Emily smiled and walked out,

followed by most of the others.

Blair got teamed with his antagonist, a Detective Walter Riley. Walter was an

older man, who wore a sports coat and always chewed on a toothpick. Jim wondered

if Walter would swallow the battered splinter in excitement. Emily and Carl

volunteered Blair to go first and Walter whined about it until some anonymous

wit asked if he wanted someone to guarantee his safety. That shut the older man

up and got him moving.

Jim had a chance to admire the way Blair gave way to the experienced cop. He did

his job and kept his personality subdued. It came to Jim that Blair had done

that on occasion around Jim - especially when Jim was at his angriest.

Blair kept to the left of Walter and two paces behind, moving quickly to keep up

with the older man. Walter directed the action as they swept along three

corridors.

"They're heading right for him," Carl muttered, "C'mon Sandburg, take charge

here."

"Riley won't let that happen," Jim replied and Emily grinned. On the screen

Blair cocked his head and pulled Walter back around the corner. The perp's paint

dart splattered on the corridor wall and Blair yelled the usual warning as he

risked a glance around the corner. The perp fired another round, which Blair

avoided and returned fire once. The paint dart splattered on the perp's shoulder

and he dropped the gun.

"Ah! I'm hit! Ya got me, copper!" the perp staggered around dramatically and

threw himself on the floor.

"Very funny, sir," Blair got up from his crouch and stowed his weapon.

"What's the big idea – grabbing me like that?" Walter growled and the perp sat

up.

"C'mon, Riley – he saved your bacon. And let me tell you now, if you'd died here

your license would be removed on the spot," the perp got to his feet and pulled

off the paint splattered jacket.

"Good shot, Sandburg – you stopped me without killing me, and the warning was

loud and clear before you fired."

"Thanks, sir," Blair replied and jumped as Emily's voice sounded over the p.a.

"C'mon guys – we're on a time thing here."

Blair waved and headed out quickly: not waiting to see what Walter would do or

say. Jim heard him turn in the equipment, but didn't come in with the others.

"Where's the rookie?" Walter asked as he returned, and Emily frowned over at the

beefy cop.

"Target practice," she replied, "He goes this time every day. Has a consistent

score of nine."

"That's pretty good," Jim commented.

"For a know-nothing, wet-behind-the-ears punk," Walter mumbled and the other

cops glared at him.

"Tell you what – lets get Sandburg back for some drills," Carl picked up the

phone, "You all need to run through this twice anyway. He can partner up with

someone different."

"I'll work with him," Dave Harris volunteered before Jim could say a word, and

Carl nodded.

"Sounds good to me," he agreed, "Joe – that you? Yeah, is Sandburg there yet? No

man, he did ok; we want an encore. Huh you got me. Ok, thanks."

Carl hung up the phone and keyed the mike. Jim realised the other pair had run

through the scenario and made it out alive.

"Ok guys, lets go," Carl turned, "Ellison and Parker – you're up."

Jim nodded and followed Teresa Parker out.

This time Jim used his Sentinel senses to help out, tuning his hearing to catch

the perp's movements and heartbeat.

"How'd you know that guy was hiding behind the corner like that?" Teresa asked

as they headed back to the screens. Jim shrugged.

"Good instincts I guess. He hasn't done that yet, and it was only a matter of

time before we could start predicting what happened," Jim replied. Teresa made a

little grunt of agreement.

"Your aim was great," Jim complimented her as a distraction and she gave him an

old fashioned look.

"It should be, after all that's my job," she preceded Jim into the control room

and he rolled his eyes a little. Megan Conner crossed his mind and Jim

considered the theory that high-ranking female cops were all cloned from the

same part of the genetic pool.

When Blair came back in he was frowning a little.

"Sir?" he asked Carl and the instructor stood up, leaving Emily to run the

simulation.

"Relax - you're not in trouble here. Dave Harris here wants to run through with

you, so we thought we'd call you back," Carl didn't really elaborate and Jim was

pleased when Blair nodded.

"Practice makes perfect," he agreed.

"Good, then you can run through with me too," Teresa spoke up.

"And me," Jim said before anyone else could. A few other cops put in as well,

but Carl stopped anyone else from volunteering.

"He's only one guy and this is hard work," Carl explained, "I seriously doubt

anyone would do this more than once a day –if at all that often."

Blair fitted into his usual position as he and Jim entered the building. Jims

senses flared with a rush into full function, and he located the perp on the top

floor within seconds. He looked back at Blair and pointed at the ceiling.

"Top floor," he whispered, "We'll take the stairs up and sweep the other floors

as we go."

Blair nodded, probably realizing that Jim had his hearing almost to maximum. He

held his gun down, finger off the trigger and followed as Jim started up the

stairs. Everything was clicking for Jim – he knew he could trust his partner to

be exactly in the right place to anticipate his movements. They moved carefully

up to the top floor and began to ease through the jumble of furniture that

littered the corridor. Blair was walking slightly sideways to keep an eye on

their backs as Jim tracked down the perp. Jim moved along smoothly, feeling the

rhythm as they moved quickly towards where the heartbeat was located.

There was a flash of movement and Jim called the familiar warning to the perp.

The heartbeat went up and Jim took cover as the paint gun fired at them. He

returned fire and Emily's voice said,

"Kill!" over the p.a. system. Then Blair knocked Jim down as another gun went

off and Jim returned fire as Emily called over the p.a. system twice. Jim pulled

Blair up.

"You ok?" Blair asked and Jim nodded.

"Sorry Chief, I was so focused on the guy in front of us that I didn't hear the

second one," he apologised, and then something sank in, "They called kill three

times."

"I didn't get out of the way quick enough," Blair sighed, "Sorry Jim."

The two perps came up to them.

"Sandburg – you died!" the first man exclaimed.

"I always said I'd kill you sooner or later," the second man crowed and Blair

grinned at him.

"Now you've achieved your goal, what will you do?" he asked and the second man

pretended consternation. They were walking back down the stairs now and Jim

trailed a little behind. The paint mark was squarely in the center of Blair's

back. Jim shivered in reaction to the ugly mark.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Blair lived through all the other simulations that afternoon. He accepted the

teasing of the other cops in good spirit and they split up for dinner. He found

Jim out on the fitness course after dinner. It was dark and he announced his

presence by falling over the logs.

"You all right?" Jim asked giving Blair a hand up.

"Just a minor broken leg – we're not all Sentinels here," Blairs voice was

light, but tinged with a little pain, "What are you doing out here by yourself?

Your senses aren't on overload are they?"

"No, I'm fine," Jim replied, and shifted from one foot to the other.

"Something's bothering you," Blair stated baldly and found Jims elbow. He

gripped it quite firmly to prevent another tumble. It also helped remind Jim

that his guide hadn't died, was right there and getting ticked off that Jim

wouldn't talk to him.

"How'd you find me?" Jim didn't want to deal with that question yet.

"I asked one of the late evening p.t. classes if they'd seen you and came on

out," Blair replied, "So, what is bothering you?"

"Its about today," Jim confessed. Blair snorted. Jim tensed up, not wanting

Blair to dismiss the value the Sentinel placed on his Guides life.

"I've been in shootouts with you before," Blair protested.

"That's the problem. You've always been in danger with me – but I could tell you

to back off, or keep you in the car," Jim plunged into the problem, "Today I

realised that I can't do that anymore."

"And a good thing too," Blair said wholeheartedly. He knew where this was going

and what had sparked it. If he were going to be effective in Major Crimes Jim

would have to realize the partnership was fifty-fifty, for better or worse.

"You took a bullet for me today," the words burst out of Jim and Blair stood

silently for a moment before sighing. This pain wasn't one that he could talk

away. But he could distract Jim.

"Jim did you ever stop to consider how hard it was for me to stay behind when

you were going into danger? Sure, part of these last few years was about

observing you. A lot of it was trying to help someone I respected do the right

thing. This is a new start for us – an equal partnership," Blair took a breath

and gave a little laugh, "Or as equal it can be with your greater experience and

heightened senses."

"I never realised," Jim looked across at Blair who smiled. Time to seal the

breach, not to think about drowning in the fountain, committing academic

suicide, watching someone he loved like a brother push him away in fear.

"Partners need to know how far they'll go for each other. I've known how far

you'll go for me for ages."

"I didn't need you to die for that," Jim growled, and Blair laughed.

"Don't tell me we've wasted all this warrior bonding time," he ducked away from

Jims swat, "And besides, tomorrow is another day and we'll beat them at their

own game. Now do me a favor, and lead me back to civilization. I can't see a

thing out here."

Jim laughed and used his sight to find the path and avoid the obstacles.

Next morning Carl and Emily decided to run their groups through a fitness course

– just as a precaution. They volunteered Blair to go first – he had to chase an

armed classmate through the alley of Sim Town, over fences and other typical

obstacles, then into the building and onto the roof. Once on the roof Blair

would have to catch his quarry before the quarry could ditch important evidence.

Blair shook his head at Emily in resignation and collected his gear. Emily and

Carl sort of laughed at each other and set up the cameras to follow the chase.

"We're going to run this a little differently," Carl announced, "Normally you'll

only go up against one, but today we're going to throw a surprise at Sandburg.

His perp will have a partner."

"Doesn't seem fair," Teresa spoke up. Jim glanced at her in support.

"And what about the day he runs into this exact same situation?" Walter growled

at her.

"He'll be prepared," Emily agreed, "The only thing you can count on in this job

is that you can't count on anything."

The other cops in the room made agreeing noises and Teresa nodded – not backing

down, but recognizing the truth. Carl gestured at the monitors.

"Here we go," he announced and the cops focussed on the screens.

Blair ran full speed after the perp, scrambling over the bins thrown in his way.

There was a chain-link fence in the middle of the alley and Blair hit that at a

run, halfway up in seconds and over the top in a wild scramble. He followed the

perp into the building and ducked a covering shot the perp fired at him. His

blood was up now and he yanked his gun before moving carefully along the

corridor and risking a glance up the stairs. There was a flash of movement as

the perp ran upstairs and Blair followed, keeping to the side and checking the

corridors as he passed each landing.

His quarry came to a halt at the edge of the roof and used an air-conditioning

tower for cover. Blair found himself pinned in the doorway. He looked around

carefully, answering the fire with an occasional shot himself. There was a sound

just below and Blair looked down carefully and was almost hit when the second

villain shot at him. He threw himself to one side and ducked the double barrage

of fire. Blair took another look at the roof and threw himself down the stairs,

surprising the second attacker and yelling the warning loud and clear. A barrage

of fire narrowly missed him and he fired once, scoring a hit on the perp's leg.

Then Blair whirled, ran up the stairs and out the door, rolling to avoid fire

and coming up in the right spot to call the warning. When this was ignored

again, Blair fired and hit his opponent in the leg.

The cops in the room gave a little cheer.

"All right rookie!" Teresa crowed.

"Not bad," Walter nodded grudgingly. Jim folded his arms, impressed by Blair's

new skill. They watched Blair disarm and cuff his suspect, roughing up a quick

bandage before running down to secure the second gunner.

"And that is how we do that!" Carl said into the mike and Blair grinned, untying

the cuffs he'd faked up from his belt and helping the guy up.

"Thanks Sandburg. Nice shot," the guy said and Blair trooped upstairs to let the

other guy go. Walter was next for the pursuit and went to get ready. He was

halfway through before Jim realised that Blair hadn't returned.

Jim's senses did him proud all through the simulation. There was only one perp

and Jim had him cornered before the guy could do more than think about firing.

Trouble set in as Jim headed down to hand in the paint gun. His hearing flared

up to painful intensity and then took his sight with it, sending him wincing out

into the corridor. By blinking rapidly, Jim managed to get his sight down to

almost normal and handed in the gun.

"Where's Sandburg?" he asked Carl and winced when Carl told him in a normal

voice that was way too loud for sensitive ears.

"You alright?" Carl asked, putting a hand on Jim's arm and Jim winced again.

"Migraine," he lied, "I'll just go get some air."

He headed out in a hurry. Blair found him curled up painfully in his room,

trying too hard to combat the hypersensitivity. Blair sat beside the ball of

Sentinel and put a hand on his shoulder, talking in a bare whisper to get Jim to

calm down and focus. Blair's tones was serene and warm - the mixture that Jim

always responded too, couldn't block out no matter what else was happening to

them. Eventually Jim managed to sit up and Blair put him into a meditation

trance. After an hour things were back to normal, though Jim was a little

hesitant in looking around. His guide sat close by - a comforting point of

reality.

"Better?" Blair asked quietly and Jim nodded.

"Wow, that hasn't happened before," Jim muttered, rubbing his hands over his

face, "What caused that?"

"Could be allergies," Blair replied, thinking aloud, "I noticed you wincing a

bit in the dining hall on Friday night, and you haven't been using your senses

consistently in the simulations."

"What could I be allergic to? All the plants and so on are common everyday

things. There's no imported water, no exotic ingredients," Jim protested. He

hated not being able to control his senses.

"Illness then, you could be coming down with something," Blair suggested,

concern written on his face. Jim denied illness with a shake of his head and got

up to pace.

"If you get worked up your senses could overload again, so just calm down,"

Blair held his hands up as he watched Jim pace.

"I hate it when I can't control this," Jim growled, and Blair nodded in sympathy

with the oft-aired complaint.

"Its not much fun from my end of the deal either," he commented and Jim hit him

with a glare that could peel paint. There was a knock on the door and Jim opened

it angrily. Emily backed up a step and held out a bottle of aspirin.

"I thought you might need these," she offered and Jim thanked her sheepishly.

"Sorry, I tend to get cranky when my heads splitting," he offered the excuse

that had worked before when he had to cover for his senses, "Must be something

around setting off an allergy."

"Is Blair in there with you? We missed him at lunch," Emily peered over Jims

shoulder and Blair stood up from the floor to fill the gap at Jims shoulder.

"What have I done now?" he asked in a light tone and Emily grinned.

"Just had to tell you that we've got you down for a late night exercise, so come

down to Sim Town after dinner. And Boles has moved his written exam up. It's on

in ten minutes," she stood aside as Blair made a startled noise and pushed past

Jim.

"That's just great!" floated back down the corridor and Jim chuckled.

"This is the final Sim. Providing he passes Boles and this, he'll graduate,"

Emily told Jim as they also walked down the corridor, "You want to watch?"

"Is that allowed?" Jim asked.

"Everyone else on refresher is going to be there," Emily shrugged, "Riley

especially. Are you going to be able to work this afternoon?"

"Yeah, I'm ok," Jim nodded, "A little meditation works wonders."

"You know, you're the last guy I imagined would be into natural healing," Emily

said as they stepped out into the sunlight. Jim shrugged.

"You kidding? I've been into this for years," he replied and mentally apologised

to Blair for all the complaining he did whenever his guide tried to get Jim to

do anything new.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Blair walked carefully down the corridor he had been directed to. It was late

and he'd been told to go to a certain place and deal with anything he came

across.

He stuck his head around the corner cautiously and froze. A white man was

holding a gun on a black woman, glaring at Blair and grinding the muzzle of the

gun into her neck. She was crying and moaning and he was cursing in her ear.

"You a pig?" the man snarled and Blair nodded carefully.

"Blair Sandburg – Cascade PD," he identified himself in a still voice, "And you

are?"

"Trey McCoy," the perp replied and Blair nodded. He was standing partially

shielded at the corner of the corridor, so he knew he was safe enough. The

corridor was dimly lit and full of a weird jumble of furniture and boxes.

"So, what's going on Mr. McCoy?" Blair asked softly and McCoy sneered at him.

"Think you care?"

"I'm asking," Blair replied, "I never ask questions I don't want to know the

answer too."

"They lay me off my job and the landlady here is telling me to get out 'cause I

can't pay the rent."

"Difficult," Blair nodded, "But you don't need to hold the gun on her, you know.

Funnily enough she's just doing her job too."

Despite the fact that he had a clear shot of the gunman, Blair didn't take it.

He could shoot the guy in the leg and hope the landlady got clear, but it was

simply a part of his nature that said it was better to solve the problem than

just shoot his way out. It never even crossed his mind to aim at McCoy – a sense

that McCoy would take the easy way out and just start shooting.

"Can you do that Mr. McCoy? Can you just take the gun out of her neck? She's

terrified that you'll kill her for doing her job."

The gun eased away a little.

"I can see you good, cop. If you try to shoot at me I will kill her."

"I'm not a big fan of guns, man," Blair replied without thinking, "Seems to me

they cause more problems than they solve."

"You a pacifist?" McCoy spat the words in contempt, "Man, spineless weaklings

like you are pulling this country down."

"So how come you're the one holding a gun on a woman trying to avoid getting

kicked out of her job?" Blair's voice was sharp; that remark hit his button.

McCoy looked at the woman still crying in his arms.

"What am I doing? You guys are just gonna shoot me no matter what I do," McCoy

said softly.

"Not if you put the gun down right this second and let me walk you out of here,"

Blair retorted, keeping his voice positive. The gun lowered and then fell to the

floor. McCoy walked forward and stepped out of the apartment door to truly stand

in front of Blair. If Blair had shot at what he'd seen, he'd have shot at a

mirror. The grip relaxed and the landlady was free, sliding to the floor and

crawling towards Blair.

"Stay still, ma'am. I'll be there in a moment. Turn around and put your hands on

your head, Mr. McCoy. I got to put the cuffs on and read you your rights so

we're all legal."

Blair edged out and gently arrested the man. Then he leant down to check on the

woman and she smiled at him.

"Way to go, rookie. You did it perfectly," she said and accepted his hand up off

the floor. He smiled and took a couple of deep breaths.

"Thanks," he tried to quell the heaving of his stomach and unlocked the cuffs.

McCoy turned around and put a hand on Blair's arm.

"That was the gentlest ending to this scenario that I've ever been in," he

congratulated the trembling rookie, "Just take it easy. Adrenaline takes a while

to clear out of the system."

"I'm ok," Blair told them, "I'll go for a quick run around the block and be back

to normal."

Jim found him at the logs again. To his Sentinel eyesight it looked as if the

guide had been crying, but his voice was normal when Jim greeted him.

"I figured out that reaction. Teresa is wearing a perfume that you react to –

one of the nastier reactions we've had in a while," Blair moved over to let Jim

sit next to him and the sentinel was happy to let their shoulders touch.

"It's gonna be different," Jim said without preamble, "I learnt that I can get

along without you - in fact Joel was great these last nine weeks. But I also

learnt that you do more than follow me around telling me what to do. You provide

me with a unique gift."

"Jim," Blair's voice trailed away, and Jim reached for the hand that moved

restlessly on the guide's knee.

"You gift me with a sense of belonging and family that I don't think I've ever

had. You're patient with the thousands of bad moods I have every day. You get up

in my face and tell me off - keep me in line though I yell at you for it. You've

sacrificed everything to keep my abilities secret. No one has ever done that. I

don't think anyone has ever given themselves so freely for such an ungrateful

pain in the ass."

"Next you'll be recommending me for sainthood. Jim, we're better than family -

we're Sentinel and Guide. And even though you'll have lots of other Guides in

years to come, I'll always be here. Inside where it counts," Blair tapped Jim's

chest above the heart and squeezed the fingers that gripped his hand. Jim

nodded.

"Now that I'm through with the adrenaline reaction let's get back to the

barracks. I've still got classes tomorrow and you've got to get back to work,"

the guide knew when his sentinel had gone as far as he was able. A lot farther

today than had been possible only a few years ago.

And who knew how far they'd go in the years to come. Because tonight they'd

rediscovered a simple law of nature, one they'd forgotten in the pain of recent

trauma.

The Sentinel and the Guide stay together. No matter what.

End

0o0o0o0o0o0

Comments, criticism, suggestions? Please e-mail Shedoc.


	5. Pet Hate

Pet Hate Disclaimer: The Sentinel, Blair Sandburg, Jim Ellison, Simon Banks, and

all other characters are property of Paramount and Pet Fly. No copyright

infringement is intended, and no money has exchanged hands.

Pet hate

by Shedoc

Ask anyone in Major Crimes what my pet hate is and they'll tell you: waiting.

Captain Banks hates to wait.

My ex-wife knows it, my son knows it, and my friends know it. People I've

arrested figure it out pretty quickly too. The closer the deadline gets the more

impatient I become.

Two weeks and counting until Blair Sandburg finishes his departmental rotation

and joins Major Crimes permanently. The kid aced Academy in record time, but no

matter how I tried we couldn't skip the departmental rotation.

Sometimes late at night I wonder if Sandburg aced the Academy so I wouldn't have

to wait so long. The kid knows how much I hate waiting.

I check up on him every day - ask his CO how he's doing, has he stuffed up?

That's started people wondering if I even want him in my department. Wait until

he's done his last day on rotation - I've made arrangements to swear him in the

minute he's off shift. We'll do it right there in the bullpen - all the team

together - and then go out and celebrate.

The reports I'm getting back are glowing. Sandburg fits in no matter where he

goes - the experienced cops find working with him very easy. He makes a place

for himself and doesn't ruffle feathers. I'm puzzled by all this until one night

it hits me.

Sandburg is still an anthropologist. Anthropologists study the culture and

society around them and learn how to interact with them too. The kid's treating

the rotation like a field trip.

Part of me is awed by his ability to do his job so well. The other part is

terrified.

What if he's been lying to us all these years? Playing a part - pretending to be

a friend and comrade?

"Simon?" Jim Ellison asks me, concern on his face and I wave a hand at him,

shaking the thoughts away.

If Sandburg had been lying then Ellison would have known. A lie screamed out to

the Sentinel. Hell, he lived with the kid - no one could live with Ellison and

lie all the time.

"Sir, are you ok?" Ellison asks me again and I nod and smile. We're in my office

at the conference table, reviewing old case files.

"Fine, Jim. You know how I hate waiting," the reply is the truth, but vague

enough not to tell him what I was really thinking.

"This time," Ellison's voice is so sincere I could use it to sell electric eels to Arabic nomads, "This time - I couldn't agree more."

I'm relieved to hear it. Sandburg shouldn't have to sacrifice himself again. I

try to keep this memory close - knowing that all too soon I'll be yelling at

Sandburg for some reason and wondering why I wanted him around full time.

I can hardly wait.

0o0o0o0o0o0

To be continued in part 6

Comments, criticism, suggestions? Please e-mail Shedoc.


	6. And Finally

And Finally...Disclaimer: The Sentinel, Blair Sandburg, Jim Ellison, Simon

Banks, and all other characters are property of Paramount and Pet Fly. No

copyright infringement is intended, and no money has exchanged hands.

And finally…

by Shedoc

End of a long night. Happy, but long.

We swore Sandburg in tonight - and I do mean we. He got back to Vice from his

last night of stakeout and Jim collared him, marched him up to Major Crimes and

stood beside me as I swore his partner in. The rest of my people stood behind

us, serious faced and silent until Sandburg accepted his shield from me and his

gun from Jim. Then they roared their approval while Sandburg looked a little

shocked at the gun in his hand before slipping the shoulder rig on and his coat

over it.

We all headed for Bobbies - a local haunt we all liked and had a few beers.

Nothing boisterous, but fun none the less. At midnight the majority went home,

leaving Ellison, Conner, Taggert, Henri, Rafe and I with Sandburg at a big table

in the back.

There was a comfortable silence going as we finished our drinks before heading

home. I treasure times like this - knowing only too well that out job is

dangerous and any one of us could get hurt tomorrow. Memories like this one will

get me through the stress and pain of that.

"Hairboy?" Henri asked quietly as Blair idly turned a coaster in his hands. I

reflected that Sandburg will never live down all the nicknames he's earned as

our observer- in fact the list is likely to grow longer. Blair grinned at Henri

and bobbed his eyebrows in a 'yeah?' gesture.

"I gotta ask," Henri continued after a moment and my stomach knotted up. Please

don't ask about the Sentinel stuff! Don't ruin this moment!

"I thought you hated guns - what changed your mind?"

I wanted to kick my detective - that was a much worse question! Sandburg grinned

as everyone except Ellison looked at him. Ellison was focussed on two men over

by the door, muttering to each other and looking around shiftily. I couldn't

hear them but I'm sure Ellison could.

"In all the time I've observed with you guys I've held guns for others. I even

fired a rifle," Sandburg began - obviously he's put a lot of thought into this,

"But it's never been who I am - a part of me. If I'm in trouble I talk, or use a

hose, or throw a baseball. I don't automatically reach for a gun to solve my

problems - I'd probably be dead if I did. I don't need a gun to do my job."

Sandburg put a hand on Ellison's arm automatically and I saw some focus return

to his face. Taggert relaxed a little beside me. Zone averted.

"But I have to carry a gun as part of my job. I'll use it if I have to - but

it's always gonna be a last resort," Sandburg explained, "I still believe in gun

control. I still believe violence doesn't solve anything. But I'm not a pacifist

and I'd never let any of you get hurt on my watch."

The conviction was obvious. Sandburg sounded like he was swearing an oath - one

that we all knew he'd die to keep. There was a profound silence - how do you

respond to that?

"That's enough oaths for one day," Ellison said firmly, "C'mon we've gotta get

some sleep. Can't be late for your first day on the job."

"Yeah, I hear the boss hates waiting," Sandburg cracked and dispelled the mood.

I hit him with my best scowl and watched it slide off him like water off a ducks

back. Totally unfazed he got up with the others and set about paying his share

and collecting coats.

I linger behind and watch the Sentinel steer his Guide out to the truck, hand on

his shoulder. They're independent, I realize, but like any symbiotic creatures

they do better together than apart. If you know how to look you can see their

connection to each other and their protectiveness.

And tomorrow - finally - they're working for me to protect their city. As my son

would say: awesome!

End

Author's note: I hope I got this right - Simon is a complex character: gruff yet

compassionate. I didn't mention his family or anything else in this story

because I was borrowing Simon's voice to tell Jim and Blair's story - mostly

Jim's.

I won't be writing from Simon's p.o.v. again - he's told me what he wanted to

say and is happy now

Let me know what you think!

Shedoc


	7. Electronic Bottle

Electronic Bottle Disclaimer: The Sentinel, Blair Sandburg, Jim Ellison, Simon

Banks, and all other characters are property of Paramount and Pet Fly. No

copyright infringement is intended, and no money has exchanged hands.

Author's note: set immediately after the Simon Says Series. For the person who

asked (you know who you are) ;-) Warning - some bad language. The song is not

mine either: it's called 'Message in a Bottle' by The Police - I swear!

Electronic Bottle

by Shedoc

Jim sat at his desk and listened to Blair read the riot act to two uniforms in

the lift as it rose towards Major Crimes. They'd made an overly loud comment

about Jim and his new partner and Blair had turned and pinned their ears back in

a pleasant tone that none-the-less carried an undertone of pure malice.

Jim sighed to himself and put his pen down. The first week out of Academy Blair

had been the target of malicious comments about frauds and hippies. He only

replied to them if Jim was also maligned and the Sentinel was getting tired of

it. He'd caught Taggert reaming a couple of uniforms and Henri and Rafe backed a

few Vice cops into a corner of the men's room. Simon had gone toe to toe with

the Captain of Robbery after a report Blair had written was sent back with the

request it was checked for accuracy.

The door to the lift opened and Blair walked out - his breathing was even and

his heart rate normal. He sat at his desk next to Jim and checked his mail on

the computer.

"Hey Jim, have we heard from the witness in the Jackson case yet?" Blair asked

as he read the first entry and looked up when Jim didn't respond, "Jim are you

here?"

"Yeah," Jim grated, "We haven't heard from her yet. If there's no sign of her by

four I want to go out there and find her."

Blair folded his hands and leaned forward a little. He frowned at his partner

and sighed.

"You shouldn't be listening in to every conversation I have, man. You're only

going to hear bad things," Blair kept his voice quiet so others couldn't hear

him knowing Jim would adjust. Jim reflected there was a definite downside to

having someone know you so well and care so much. The phone rang - giving Jim a

reprieve - and Henri called Blair over to give them some distance.

"Hey - I haven't heard this song in ages!" Henri was saying as Jim hung up.

Blair was nodding along and Jim listened to the lyrics.

_I'll send an SOS to the world…_

_I'll send an SOS to the world…_

_I hope that someone gets my…_

_I hope that someone gets my…_

_I hope that someone gets my…_

_Message in a bottle, yeah…_

Jim sighed, knowing that Blair was sending out an SOS too, but Jim was unable to

do anything about it. His Sentinel abilities had to remain a secret from the

rest of the world if he was going to be able to function as a cop - the whole

thesis mess had proven that.

But that meant that Blair was considered a fraud by the whole force - with the

exception of Major Crimes, who couldn't speak the truth any more than Jim or

Blair could.

_Woke up this morning…_

_Can't believe my eyes…_

_One million bottles floating on the shore…_

_Looks like I'm not alone in being alone…_

Blair's voice drowned out the lyrics as he told Henri about someone's theory

that the artists had predicted the Internet with this song - using the island as

a metaphor for a computer that was connected to the net. Henri was laughing as

Blair explained the tale - a big grin on his face and hands flying as of old.

Jim considered the computer in front of him. It was a little island. He could

reach out and touch anyone in the department with this thing. Kind of an

electric message in a bottle. A plan formed in his mind and he grinned over at

his Guide. Henri decided it was safe to send Sandburg back and Blair flipped him

a little wave as he headed back to his partner.

Pretty soon they were both immersed in their computers - but for different

reasons.

The whispers Jim heard were changing. Every time he was at his desk, the

Sentinel would sweep the building for conversations that involved Blair.

He would listen to them long enough to catch a phrase that the conversant would

remember and then post it to their e-mail with the time, date and his rebuttal.

He usually included which sense he had used to find these people and how long

he'd listened. If the two people weren't going to be near their computer he'd

call on the cell phone and let them know his side of the issue.

Focus shifted off Blair and his hippie ways and settled firmly on Jim and his

uncanny calls. Blair was oblivious to it all as Jim firmly repressed his guilt

and became more demanding with the Sentinel stuff. It almost backfired as Blair

increased his workload and decreased his sleep to get Jim through it. Simon

occasionally increased Jim's guilt load by giving him a knowing look, but Jim

figured he could weather the storm - and the extra training was really honing

his control.

The clincher came when a hostage taker took over an office on the third floor of

a mid-city office block. There was a construction site nearby and several other

high-rises. SWAT had positioned their men, but was having trouble setting up an

incursion that wouldn't also kill the hostages.

Jim and Blair were standing on the other side of the scene, while Jim used his

senses to scope things out and check on the people locked in upstairs. He was

also eavesdropping on the SWAT leader as he tried to come up with a workable

plan. The construction site was the best place for a sniper to be, but they

didn't have a weapon powerful enough to hit him.

Jim relayed all of this to Blair, who looked at the half-finished structure and

then the tools lying around. There was a pile of girders that were waiting to be

installed in the structure and a lot of tools that had been abandoned when the

workers had been evacuated.

"Hey Jim, look at that," Blair pointed and snagged his partners arm, "C'mon man

- I have an idea."

Jim followed willingly, knowing that they were being watched and listening to a

few of the derogatory comments that the snipers made to each other over the open

comm. Blair found the large piece of machinery he was looking for and bullied

Jim into helping him carry it up the three stories of scaffolding.

"What the hell are we doing?" Jim grumbled as he helped Blair position the thing

and Blair hit him with the - 'are you dense or just annoying' look.

"Ok, we're going to use this awesome piece of pneumatic equipment to break the

siege," Jim conceded, "But why aren't we up here with a SWAT sniper?"

"Because they don't have your eyes man, and there is no way to attach a site to

the rivet gun - or whatever it's called," Blair replied as he hooked up the air

hoses to the compressor.

"Good point," Jim conceded again, "So how much kick will this thing have, how do

I aim it and what is its range?"

Blair grinned at him and came across to the edge to help. They spent a few

minutes figuring everything out and discussing how it would aim. Jim used the

back wall to practice a few rounds.

"You want to pin his arm first, and then the opposite side," Blair advised, "If

he turns into one of these we could kill him, so we want to avoid that."

"Duh," Jim grinned, "Help me cushion the recoil."

Jim used the smell and touch of his Guide to focus as he zeroed in his eyes and

ears to locate the gunman and hostages. The man was standing above his hostages

and presented a clear target. Jim succeeded in pinning his arm to the wall and

then snagged his clothes as well, securing him in place. The SWAT team was

yelling at each other as the glass fell to the ground and Jim pulled out his

cell phone to contact the team leader and brief him on what had just happened.

Then he went and stood near the edge, folded his arms and stared over at the

SWAT team as they cautiously entered the room and let the hostages out before

trying to get the hostage taker off the wall. It was not easy and the whole time

Jim just stood there with his arms crossed, watching.

The SWAT leader looked over at the half built building and spotted the Sentinel.

Blair became a little uneasy and approached carefully, laying his hand on Jim's

shoulder and asking if he was still there - had he zoned?

"No," Jim replied, making sure his point had been made to the cops looking over

at him. He let Blair urge him away from the edge. They left everything set up as

it was - knowing the investigators would want the scene left intact.

Jim also knew from the look that Blair had given him that the genie was about to

come out of the bottle. His time was almost up.

Jim made sure the two way in his hand was right to go and walked into the

bullpen. He dropped it carefully on his desk - it hadn't taken long to rewire

the thing into broadcasting continuously. He wanted the whole force to hear this

- Blair's vindication and possibly the last gift Jim would give him in Cascade.

As Jim expected Blair was at Jim's desk, hacking at the e-mail program and

furious with each letter he read.

"What the hell are you doing, Jim?" Blair growled at his Sentinel and Jim gave

Blair his best unreadable look.

"Sandburg - are you in my e-mail?" Jim managed to sound annoyed, "That's illegal

you know."

"So arrest me," no warmth in a voice that was always so accessible, "Can you

please explain to me why you would choose to not only eavesdrop on everyone in

the station, but then tell them you were doing it from your desk?"

"No one calls my partner a fraud," Jim replied firmly, crossing his arms and

leaning against Blairs desk. Blair leapt to his feet, properly pissed off, guard

down just as Jim needed it to be.

"I frigging killed myself for you! I threw away everything for you and this damn

job and you decide to throw that in my face?" Blair roared and Jim was glad he

knew his friend wasn't the type to just punch his way through a problem. Simon

came out of his office and the bullpen went silent.

"You shouldn't have had to," Jim let his anger and frustration flow, matching

Blair's volume easily, "Ok, so the media won't let me live as a Sentinel but

here at work I should at least be able to be straight with our colleagues! You

shouldn't be branded a fraud for the truth! Hell, everyone here knows I'm a

Sentinel and they've all accepted that! Just like they accepted you before they

knew you were my Guide!"

"So you just think everyone will accept that?" Blair yelled right back, standing

angrily, "You think I'll be accepted because I lied about what I do? Man, all

you've done is prove everything they've said about me right! You've vindicated

them! What am I supposed to do now man?"

"As I see it we've got two options," Jim returned, finally glad to say what he'd

been feeling for so long, "Either the PD here accepts the truth of what we are -

Sentinel and Guide: two halves of the same coin, or we resign and go somewhere

to hire out as a team. If we're not welcome in Cascade then we go, Chief. It's

that simple."

Blair stared at him in shocked silence. How long had Jim felt this way? Why

hadn't he noticed?

"Leave? Just like that?" he managed to say and Jim nodded.

"I would live in a cardboard box in the darkest alley of the remotest country to

have you accepted for what you are," Jim growled - his voice becoming gruff now,

"You're my Guide and I'm a Sentinel. Whatever it takes for us to be accepted is

what I'll do. Hell, everyone here already knows how far you'll go to protect me.

I'm only ashamed it took me this long to see the light. You should never have

had to kill yourself for me. You won't ever have to again."

"Man I hate it when your instincts kick in," Blair mumbled too soft for the two

way to pick up - and Jim was relieved to see his Guide back down.

"Now that you two have cleared the air do you think we could get back to

business?" Simon growled loudly and everyone returned their attention to their

desks.

"It's a slow day," Rafe complained and Brown slapped a hand across his partners'

mouth.

"Shut up, man! You'll offend the Gods! Hey Blair, you're an anthropologist! Do

you know of a way to appease their wrath after that little statement?" Connor

called and Blair grinned.

"Like handcuffing him naked to the flagpole?" Blair's comeback was the last

thing Jim's two way picked up as the detective yanked the battery. He'd tell

Blair the full story tonight - including the two way - and apologize properly.

Jim meant what he'd said though. If they had to quiet the PD they would. Blair

was too important to Jim.

Epilogue

They'd yelled at each other all night, but finally Blair had come around. He'd

made Jim promise never to manipulate him like that again and Jim had done so

whole-heartedly.

Jim apologized to Blair publicly first thing the next morning.

Three days later an anonymous person left a petition on Blair's desk. Most of

the PD had signed it. It asked them to stay on.

They did

End.

Comments, criticism, suggestions? Please e-mail Shedoc.


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